


Sorry, So Sorry

by Sally M (sallymn)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-27
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's taste buds are under attack</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry, So Sorry

**Sorry, So Sorry**

****

Damn, damn, damn, damn...

****

I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry, so sorry, so damnably, damnably sorry. I'm sitting here watching you sleep off the worst Sentinel reaction we've ever, ever seen, and I'm the one who's shaking now. Like a scarecrow - a _scared_ scarecrow- in a high wind.

****

That was _scary_, Jim. The way your eyes seemed to roll right round in your head and went that funny-peculiar colour, like rancid beer mixed with blood - the way your voice went all loopy and drunken - the way _you_ started shaking like a scarecrow in a _hurricane, _ man -

****

Glad you can sleep now.

****

But _I'll_ never forgive you for scaring me like that, man. I'll never forgive Connor or that damn aunt of hers with her 'survival food parcels', or the whole damn country of Australia. Damn Connor and her "tastes like spreadable beer, Sandy" - if that's what she thinks beer tastes like, I'm never ever trying those 'tinnies' she keeps bringing to the poker nights.

****

Come to think of it, Simon _did. _ And survived. Huh. Let's see him survive _this. _

****

And damn all those peace offerings of lamingtons and anzac biscuits... okay, okay, maybe not, they're pretty good, not that you're gonna find out because we're not about to take the chance that Aussie cakes and biscuits are booby-trapped Sentinel hazards too. Any country where they eat grubs and crocodile and... and swallow _that_, can't be trusted.

****

I tried the stuff, man, it nearly turned my throat inside out, and I'm just an anthropologist. Not a Sentinel. With your senses it must have been like swallowing sump oil mixed with raw alcohol and salt. Drenched in old beer.

****

I'm sorry. I should have stopped you.

****

I guess they don't have Sentinels in Australia, huh? I've written it down, anyway - big red letters in my journal, stuck to the fridge, in my diss notes, everywhere. Not that you're likely to forget, and God _knows_ I won't.

****

_NEVER_ GIVE A SENTINEL VEGEMITE.

**

  
**\- the end -**   


**


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